


Cut to Black

by vitoline



Category: Star vs. The Forces Of Evil
Genre: Angst, F/M, Halloween, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Sad Ending, Two Shot, after the breakup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 14:57:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20329447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitoline/pseuds/vitoline
Summary: "hey siri, do burn marks fade with time?""first-degree burns heal on their own without scarring. second and third-degree burns usually leave behind scars."aka. six months after the breakup, and Tom isn't doing so well. (but hey, it's halloween).





	Cut to Black

_“Lately you say he’s been killing the vibe, _

_Gotta be sick of this guy…”_

Tom slid under the covers. After the decision he made today, all he wanted was to be engulfed in complete darkness. Frustrated, he kicked his blanket and stared up at the ceiling – wherever the ceiling was anyway. (It was the Underworld, what’d he expect?) Exhausted and tired, he lay there, motionless, trying his hardest to forget all the events from that evening.

Right now, the song “Don’t” by Bryson Tiller pumped out of his earbuds; Janna had sent it to him ages ago, because apparently it reminded her of the nature of his and Star’s relationship. He immediately added it to his “break-up” playlist… that was now 6 months, 8 days, and 12 hours old. _“You two were never meant for a happy ending, you know,” _she said. And he knew.

Slowly, his entire body began to burn.

After undergoing years of strenuous training and therapy, releasing his anger through burn marks on his skin almost came as second nature to him. Despite the pent-up anger and frustration he’d been bottling up inside, he refused to allow his body to instinctively light on fire. If Star saw the progress he made, she would applaud him, and he was proud of that. He believed anything was better than igniting a flame, even if it meant sacrificing his body for it.

Then again, was it even possible for him, of all people, to burn? He was Tom Lucitor, Prince of Demons, (to-be) King of the _Underworld._ It simply didn’t make sense for a King-in-waiting to be hurt by his own magic. It was childish, foolish and embarrassing – but that was how he coped for the past six months. With Star out of his life, he saw no point in continuing his therapy - he had nothing to work for, no good reason to right his wrongs. So he swallowed his hurt and gave up.

At the end of the day, he was only half of a whole. Could he even call himself a monster, if he was also half-human? He was in this weird, limbo stage where he didn’t fit into the cookie cutter image of a demon, and yet, was criticized for expressing feelings like a human. It was ridiculous to imagine himself passing judgement on souls from every dimension, when he couldn’t even judge how to act in front of his own people.

Maybe if he shut himself out, hid inside his castle until he healed… his people wouldn’t know about the suffering he’d put on himself, about the undoing of their own prince. Maybe everyone would forget he ever loved Star Butterfly, and _just maybe_, with time, he’d learn to forget that he ever loved her too. Come hell or high water, he vowed it, at least for the good of his people. He couldn’t bring himself to do it for _himself_… yet.

He sighed and removed his earbuds. The reason he was so confused was because he’d been given a second chance.

He hadn’t bothered checking his messages in a long time – Star never texted him anymore, what was the point – so it came as no surprise when none other than Marco Diaz came knocking on his door with a new phone and a video game.

“You hadn’t been answering your calls,” Marco winced. “And your dad asked me to cheer you up.”

Tom held the new phone in his hands. Of course his dad called _Marco._ He was the only one Tom ever hung out with, back when the gang was still together. God, the gang_… _his breath hitched in his throat just thinking about them.

They had all gravitated towards Star – him, Marco, Janna, Kelly – she was like the Sun, softly tugging at every person she met, inviting them into her world. None of them could help it, life with Star was so exhilarating. Tom considered himself lucky she even allowed him into her orbit, if only for a little while.

The video game was okay, some Earth crap called Red Dead Redemption. (It sounded like something Tom would like, apparently?) Marco beat the crap out of him for the first half-hour, until he finally broke the ice. Tom let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“I’m throwing a Halloween party,” Marco said, before pausing to look up at him. “You should come.”

Marco didn’t once remove his gaze from the three-eyed demon, didn’t flinch when his character died.

Tom was the first to look away. His character died too, so he turned off the game and instinctively reached for his pet bunny. “Look Marco, I hope you got what you wanted.” Tom stuttered as he fervently pet Marshmallows. “You deserve it. You really do.”

“What I want is for you to come.” Marco restated firmly. “And… Star feels the same.”

Tom felt his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. He had the sudden urge to throw up.

“I’m not asking for much,” Marco made a face and stifled a laugh. “I’m not even expecting us to be friends. I know how much you want to slit my throat.”

“Is there a reason why you’re saying all this?” Tom pleaded.

Marco left, but not before inputting his number into Tom’s new phone and texting him the date and time of the party. Tom didn’t bother asking where, he already knew it would be at the Diaz’s house. Like old times. Like _always – _Star wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon.

“What even is Halloween,” he grumbled, frowning at his non-existent ceiling.

He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. Looked like Star was fully ingrained as a human on Earth, celebrating their culture, throwing parties, enjoying her freedom on Earth as she always longed to. And here he was, pathetically lying flat on his bed, wondering if burn marks darken as they heal, holding back hot tears he desperately wanted to let out. Because he was a demon, and demons don’t cry. Especially not over pretty girls like Star Butterfly.

But he was also human.

And hey, he could party.


End file.
